


Perfume

by MaevesChild



Series: Vir Dirthara [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaevesChild/pseuds/MaevesChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble from the Vir Dirthara World of Solas and Varania Lavellan.</p><p> </p><p>Inspired by this banter:</p><p>Cassandra: Is that perfume?<br/>Solas: You must be… (sniffs). Strange. Perhaps it’s the trees.</p><p>(The poem in the work is cobbled together passages from White Cyclamen by Geoffrey Dutton)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfume

Varania was looking carefully at the newest addition to the mural in the rotunda when Solas appeared behind her, startling her.

"Do you like it?" he asked, the lilt of his voice curving around the shell of her ear.

She smiled but made it a point not to turn around and look at him.  She'd just forget what she was going to say.  He had that effect on her.  "Of course I do."  She gazed up toward the top of the painting as it disappeared into the floor above.  "Don't you get dizzy, up so high?" she asked.

She felt the tip of his chin settle down on slender ridge of muscle between her neck and her shoulder.

"It's not heights that make me dizzy," he chuckled.  He breathed deeply through his nose, one long fingered hand grazing along her arm.  Those warm fingers wrapped around her elbow.

"Is that...incense?" He sounded quizzical.

Varania murmured a small negative sound, tilting her head to the side giving him better access to the side of her neck where he made of show of carefully sniffing her skin.

"No, its perfume," she explained, shivering as his breath brushed over her skin, raising goosebumps.  "Dorian...there are a few things about Tevinter worth missing, and he found this for me after I mentioned it to him."

"Ah," Solas breathed.  His body pressed up against her as he lifted her hair up and slid his cheek along the back of her neck.  He tucked his nose behind the crease of her other ear.  He sniffed again.  "Ah, yes,  _Dragon's blood._ Very Tevinter."

"I hope it doesn't bother you."  Varania wasn't quite sure what would set him off sometimes.  

"Oh, not at all," Solas replied quickly.   He rubbed his nose against her and slid her around in his arms until she was facing him.  He sniffed against delicately at the hollow of her throat, guiding her back gently but firmly until her back was resting against the wall.  " _Dragon's Blood, Sandalwood_."  He listed off the scents nonchalantly, as if he wasn't pressing his hips up against her, pinning her to the wall and rubbing his face on her.  "And a flower...hmm, not certain what that is."

He leaned his face back, his lower body still against her.  Varania hooked her ankle around his, though she left her arms hanging loose against the wall.  She looked at him with bemusement.  

"I think I need a better sample to identify it," he said, casually reaching for the hooks that closed the neck of her tunic, unfastening the first one.  "Perhaps, where the heat from your body has made the scent  _bloom_  as they say."  He was forever surprising her with the things he knew, when he seemed so disconnected from the world around them.  His fingers moved to the second hook and the third, lingering on the forth over the swell of her breasts.  Solas leaned in again, lips starting at the juncture between her collarbones.  

He sniffed and moved lower.  The tip of his nose tickled as he moved his face down until his lips were pressed softly against the curve of her breast, sniffing delicately between them.  

"Hm," he whispered, his lips moving against her skin.  Varania shivered at his touch and the stirrings of his arousal she felt where he was pressed up against her hip.  "Dragon's Blood, Sandalwood," he repeated, his mouth moving on her skin and at that point, giving up the presence of smelling her perfume and simply kissing her instead; on the swell of her breasts, on the hollow between and moving back up toward her neck.  Varania's arms came up around him, one settling on the arch of his back and the other on the warm skin of his head, fingers toying idly with the tip of his ear.  

Solas moaned quietly against the side of her neck. 

"Sandalwood," he whispered, kissing the side of her neck, the tip of his tongue grazing along her skin.  "Dragon's Blood." 

"And cyclamen," a voice interrupted from above. Varania jumped, but Solas leaning against her kept her fast in place.  She tucked her face down against him.  Solas chuckled against her neck.  He could feel the heat as Varania flushed a thousand shades of red from the tips of her ears all the way down, disappearing into the open vee of her tunic.  

"It's cyclamen," Dorian laughed from the railing of the library above them.  "There's a poem for it you know; it says:  _White cyclamen with fifteen flowers, you make me think of love. You are a concentration of curves; you lift to open. And your flowers are white, of course and bulge, like many a pregnant bride.'"_  His amusement echoed through the rotunda.

Varania could feel Solas laughing against her, though his warmth didn't lessen.

"Get a room," Dorian said, "And you're welcome."

"Shall we?" Solas asked as he raised his head to look at her, his own cheeks flushed, his mouth crooked with amusement.  

"I'm not sure if I should kill him or get him a gift," Varania sniped, embarrassed and struggling to meet Solas's eyes.  He reached out and cradled her face until she finally met his eyes.  His expression softened a little.  There was a thousand years worth of affection in his gaze.  It took her breath away.  He leaned in to kiss her.

It was so delicate at first, soft sweet press of his lips but as if he couldn't resist, the pressure increased and his tongue slipped between her lips, dancing against hers.  She whimpered into his mouth, her hand on his lower back pushing him tightly against her.

"Reserve your judgment for him until after we find somewhere more private," Solas said against her lips, quietly this time so only she could hear.  "Come with me vhenan."

He tangled his fingers through hers boldly and led her through the hall towards her quarters.  Typically, Solas tried to be discreet with their affections, but after what Dorian had just witnessed, clearly even he knew when to accept defeat.  There were a few murmurs as they walked together, but he seemed utterly unperturbed by it.  

They hardly had the door closed before he spun her around against the wall, pinning her between his lean body and the stone.  Before she even fully recognized what was happening he'd freed himself from his breeches and managed to shimmy hers down over her hips.  A button flew across the stairwell and clattered against the wall.  Solas boosted her up and grabbed her thigh, angling his hips and thrusting himself into her.  Varania instinctively wrapped her leg around him and he ground against her, kissing her fiercely.

As calm and collected as he was the rest of the time, Solas became a different man when he made love to her.  He was feral, wild.  The rough stone of the wall was forgotten as he thrust up into her with a furious rhythm.  He shuddered a little and slowed his movements, trying to hold himself back.  

Once he got started, it was unlikely to be over soon.   _And let the Maker, the Creators or whomever else be praised._

His lips slid from her mouth to her ear, running his tongue along the superbly sensitive tip.  "Cyclamen," he whispered into her ear.  He rubbed himself against her.  "I think I like it."

"Oh Maker," Varania muttered.  "I'm going to buy Dorian a pony."


End file.
